


Lucky Indonesia

by Tay (erentitanjaeger)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Reunion, a dusting of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:29:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4657893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erentitanjaeger/pseuds/Tay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Indonesia is so fucking lucky,” Hanamaki muttered, changing tactics as he finally straightened up slightly, having sobered up now knowing that he hadn’t actually been drinking for the past hour.  “What’s Indonesia got that I don’t have!?”<br/>Hanamaki watched Iwaizumi consider this.<br/>“Apparently: the ancient ruins of Borobudur.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Indonesia

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't my best work but i just wanted to write hanamatsu cause it makes me sad its such a rare pair when its so obvious i mean cmon people 
> 
> for dilara cause she's so far away and i hate her for it

Takahiro Hanamaki wouldn’t really call himself a drinker; at least not a regular one.  He’d have the occasional cocktail now and then.  A beer on the couch with his boyfriend at the end of the week.  Maybe a glass of wine when he went to have dinner with his family.  However, the occasions where he drank so much he was completely inebriated were few and far between.  Tonight, however, was one such occasion.  Though, he would argue, he had good reason.

“Asshole,” Hanamaki muttered into the wood grain of the table, his cheek flattened against the damp surface, his eyes fixed on one drop of condensation that was slowly crawling its way down his fourth (fifth, perhaps?) glass of rum and coke.  “Such an asshole.”

“You’ve been saying that all night,” Iwaizumi commented beside him.  “But now I’m not sure if you’re saying it to your boyfriend or your drink.”

“Why would I be saying it to my drink?”

“I thought maybe you’d figured out we stopped putting rum in them an hour ago.”

“Well now you’re an asshole too!”

There was a soft chuckle, high pitched in a way and flirty as can be, the owner sliding into the booth next to Iwaizumi. 

“We did it for your own good Makki-chan!” Oikawa was saying, his words were slurred, however, and his tone louder than usual, telling Hanamaki he had had one too many drinks himself.  Yet no one seemed to be stopping _him_ from getting wasted tonight.  “Mattsun would kill us if he called you later tonight only to have you crying into the phone!”

“That was one time!”

“Yeah, the ‘one time’ Matsukawa spiked our smoothies with wasabi powder in revenge for letting you get so drunk you cried to him for two hours!  My tongue still burns from the memory!” Iwaizumi is frowning now.  Hanamaki can’t tell if it’s because he’s still sort of angry at Matsukawa for doing that, or because Oikawa has draped himself over him, kissing his neck and making soft noises Hanamaki would usually be covering the noise with his own gagging sounds alongside a certain someone who _wasn’t here_.

It was quiet for a while, the late hours becoming apparent as the waiters started stacking chairs and wiping down the last few tables.  Hanamaki knew he’d have to move soon, get up and go home to an empty apartment, where he’d sleep for only three hours before his alarm went off, telling him it was time to get up and have another early morning skype call with the certain someone who _wasn’t here_.  Hanamaki felt his heart clench at the thought.

It’s not that he didn’t like talking to Matsukawa; it was sort of hard to be in love with someone if you didn’t like talking to them.  It was that signing onto skype, seeing Matsukawa’s face through a screen,  hearing his voice through the speakers of his laptop, seeing the ticking timer telling them how long they’d been talking, it was all just another vicious reminder that Matsukawa was _there_ and not _here._   It really pissed Hanamaki off.

“Indonesia is so fucking lucky,” Hanamaki muttered, changing tactics as he finally straightened up slightly, having sobered up now knowing that he hadn’t actually been drinking for the past hour.  “What’s Indonesia got that I don’t have!?”

Hanamaki watched Iwaizumi consider this.

“Apparently: the ancient ruins of Borobudur.”

Oikawa snickered into Iwaizumi’s neck, clutching at his shirt and moving to kiss his shoulder.  Hanamaki wanted to throw his glass at them.

 A few more moments of Hanamaki glaring at the gross couple across from him, of watching Oikawa get more and more brave with Iwaizumi as he wasn’t pushed away, and they were ushered out of the bar for closing.  Hanamaki said goodbye to his friends, grumbling as he watched Iwaizumi pull Oikawa into a cab, his neck being thoroughly attacked as they headed in the general direction of their apartment.  What he wouldn’t give to be doing that with his own boyfriend?

Hanamaki remembered the last time they had been drunk enough to think making out in a taxi was okay, remembered how good it felt to have Matsukawa kissing his neck while putting his hands down the back of his pants.  Remembered how it felt to lift his head, nudging Matsukawa so their lips locked, their hands intertwining, gripping tighter and tighter as the windows continued to get steamier and steamier.

“Shit,” Hanamaki cussed, feeling his still hazy mind fuelling his abandoned libido, his cheeks flushing in the middle of the street and his shoulders hunching over, as if there was someone around he needed to hide from.  In the end, he hailed a taxi himself, quickly told the driver his address and settled into the back seat, checking his phone to pass the time.

There were three missed calls from Matsukawa.  Hanamaki checked his voice mail.

“Hey, I’m not gonna be able to make our call tonight,” Matsukawa’s voice was light in Hanamaki’s ear, all hidden sarcasm and sweeping tones.  Hanamaki could practically see his heavy eyes and thin lips as the message was relayed, his heart sinking with each passing word.  “Something’s come up.  But hey, we can make tomorrow’s extra-long to make up for it.  Don’t hate me.  I love you,” and then, as if just an afterthought: “Oh!  Happy anniversary to us by the way!”

Hanamaki sighed.  What was the point of even going home now?  To an empty apartment where he didn’t even have the luxury of pretending like he had something to look forward to?  Where the sheets still smelled like _him_ even though it had been five months and Hanamaki had washed them countless times?  Where the huge living space and bedroom and office had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now just served to remind Hanamaki who wasn’t there to help him fill the space?

Still, Hanamaki knew that at one in the morning, he didn’t have many other options, so payed the taxi driver his fare and trudged up the stairs to his apartment door.  He dejectedly pulled out his key, slipping it into the lock and letting himself trudge inside.  Slipping off his shoes seemed to take so much extra energy, the walk through the hallway and into the kitchen seemed to take so much longer than usual, and Hanamaki felt like he was watching his glass fill with water in slow motion, like he could see every small wave and break the liquid made as the cup was slowly filled.

Hanamaki was so entranced by this small feat of physics that he barely heard the front door open and close, didn’t register the footsteps coming up the hallway, or the shadow that overcast his glass of water as he continued to stare at it.  It all only became real when a very deep, very familiar voice spoke in his ear, though no longer filtered by the scratchy noise that came with his too old laptop, or the hollow echo that seemed to fill all voices on his phone.

“I’m not really sure what you’re trying to accomplish by starring at that glass of water, but I can guarantee you’ll get nothing done that way.”

Hanamaki tensed, slowly turning toward the source of the noise, feeling like he had been slapped in the face as he locked eyes with Matsukawa.

“Hey there, Takahiro.”

Hanamaki probably should have replied, at least have given Matsukawa some kind of warning before pouncing on him, but to be honest, as their tongues slid against each other and Hanamaki felt strong arms wind around him for the first time in months, he truly believed the bastard should have seen it coming.  Matsukawa grunted as his feet gave way underneath him and they both went tumbling to the ground.  Hanamaki gasped as their mouths were forced apart, quickly readjusting and crawling back up Matsukawa’s body, sitting on his stomach and cupping his cheeks.

“What _the fuck_ are you doing here?” Hanamaki gasped out, surprise evident on his features, his breathing coming out ragged and uneven.  He was also angry, because Matsukawa only continued to hold him, unphased, unwinded and unperturbed by everything that had just happened.

“Happy to see me?” he only asked, hands on Hanamaki’s hips, keeping him in place, trying to move his face from Hanamaki’s hands so he could kiss his boyfriend again.

“That doesn’t answer my question!”

“Well, you didn’t answer mine.”

“I asked first!”

Matsukawa smiled, laughing slightly, soft and gentle in Hanamaki’s hands.  Hanamaki would’ve head butted him if he wasn’t totally keen on continuing their make out session later on.

“I applied for some time off a few weeks ago so I could be with you on our anniversary.  I didn’t want to tell you until it had been approved, but I only got the green light a day or so ago, and I was too busy wrangling last minute plane tickets and organising who would take my place while I was away, I forgot to tell you.  By the time I remembered I was already on the plane; I figured I’d just make myself a nice surprise.”

Hanamaki listened, still angry, though slowly softened as Matsukawa talked.  Matsukawa was tanner since he left, obviously working out in the sun all day for months on end would do that to him.  His hair was slightly longer, curling around his ears now and his undercut had been completely abandoned.  He also had the traces of a beard growing along his jaw, shaving having become a small priority when too busy digging around thousand year old cities.

But he was here.

He was warm and solid and breathing under Hanamaki, looking at him with that lazy expression that hadn’t been worn away over the months (thank God).  He was still holding Hanamaki’s hips, still looking at him expectantly, still waiting.  Hanamaki didn’t see how he could be so patient as he himself was barely holding it together as it was.

“’Nice surprise’ is a bit of an understatement, don’t you think?  Four years is supposed to be a pleasant fruit basket, not the actual object of all my love and affections!”

Matsukawa laughed, Hanamaki feeling it where their chests were pressed together.

“Well, we never really were good at being traditional, were we?”

For the first time, Hanamaki smiled, sweet and relaxed and happy; so very happy.

Hanamaki had enough sense to drag Matsukawa up and into the bedroom before touching him again, because when he started, just as he expected, he couldn’t stop.  Clothes went flying, hands were grabbing, tongues were colliding and Hanamaki let out the most guttural groan as Matsukawa licked up his throat, their naked bodies writhing together in a tangle of sheets.

Hanamaki wanted to ask Matsukawa to slow down, to savour the moments they had together now before Matsukawa would have to leave again, but all that came out as he opened his mouth was a repetitive cry of _Issei, Issei, Issei!_

Matsukawa growled in his ear, Hanamaki raking his blunt fingernails down Matsukawa’s strong back as he pushed in, setting a steady pace and soon abandoning it completely as Hanamaki tried to bear down on him.  Soon, Hanamaki couldn’t tell whose limbs were who, and honestly, he didn’t care.  So long as Matsukawa didn’t stop pounding into him with the force he currently had, hitting all the right places in all the right ways, gripping his hips so hard he was sure he’d have bruises in the morning.  Not caring in the least as Matsukawa bent down to give him yet another hickey on his shoulder.

It ended too quickly, Hanamaki opening his mouth wide in a silent scream as he climaxed, Matsukawa following quickly behind him, his teeth clamping down on Hanamaki’s shoulder as he did.  Their arms were wound so tight around each other Hanamaki knew it would be physically painful to let go.

It took a few minutes of coaxing and more slow and sensual kisses before Hanamaki made himself to let go of Matsukawa, slowly loosening his hold and lying flat, making sure Matsukawa didn’t get very far before he was pulled into the sheets with him.  More kisses were shared, this time with Matsukawa tracing the shape and defined muscles in Hanamaki’s back, pulling him closer and closer with each pleased hum let out, until Hanamaki was having trouble getting air to his lungs.  Not that it was really a current concern.  He’d soon rather go blue in the face than let Matsukawa even get a centimetre away from him.

The world was silent around them.  Hanamaki had his fingers tangled in Matsukawa’s hair, running his cheek and nose against the scruff along Matsukawa’s jawline.  He had always found the sensation of a facial hair against his skin slightly pleasant, but knew Matsukawa wasn’t a fan of growing it out in the first place so never pressed the issue.  He knew in the morning Matsukawa would be pink skin and clean shaven again, so decided to take advantage of the rare opportunity while he could.

“I see.  You only want me for my beard now, is that it?” Matsukawa’s sarcasm almost echoed throughout the room, making Hanamaki still his movements, sliding back into Matsukawa’s hold where their noses were touching.

“You caught me.  Don’t even think about cutting your hair either or you can just forget about coming home permanently.”

They shared the look they both knew all too well.  The look no one else ever understood but was Hanamaki’s and Matsukawa’s own way of saying ‘you know I’m joking and I love you’.

“So they don’t have barber’s in Indonesia?” Hanamaki asked seriously.  He shimmied further under the sheets, settling himself under Matsukawa’s jaw, giving a sloppy kiss to his neck.  Matsukawa chuckled at the feeling.

“They do.  I just don’t have the time to visit them is all.  If I’m not studying, I’m digging.  If I’m not digging, I’m studying, and on the rare occasion I’m doing neither, I’m thinking about how little time left I have to dig and study.  Life is so busy over there.”

Hanamaki finally picked up on how tired Matsukawa sounded.  It wasn’t like his usual drawl, where his words were almost blended together, his diction never having been all that great, but this time it wasn’t him being lazy; he was truly exhausted from the past few months.  His cry for some kind of reprieve was heard easily by Hanamaki.

“Oh, shame.  I guess you’ll have to cut your trip short and come back early.  That totally sucks,” Hanamaki’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his underlying pleading tone from Matsukawa. 

“Nice try.  I still have three months left on this program.  I intend to see them through.”

Silence filled the room again.

“When do you have to go back?” Hanamaki had been avoiding asking the question, not wanting to know the answer.  Not wanting to be mentally counting down how long he had left with Matsukawa, rather than just enjoying the short time they had together again.

“I have a flight back out tomorrow night.  I would’ve liked longer, but again, organisation is shit over there and I didn’t get an approval for my time off until it was almost over.”

Hanamaki silently cursed whoever was running that god-forsaken program.  He shifted further into Matsukawa’s hold, clutching at his chest, ignoring the feeling that had welled up in his gut and throat that made him feel sick and sore and lonely…

Matsukawa was here now.  He had to concentrate on that.  Not the feeling of what it would be like tomorrow night, when he had to deal with getting used to him being gone all over again.  He knew by morning it would feel like he had never left.

A hand clapped his shoulder before Matsukawa started to move.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hanamaki’s tone was threatening against Matsukawa’s skin.

“To get a burger.” 

Hanamaki couldn’t decide whether he wasn’t surprised at all or dumbfounded by how romantic Matsukawa wasn’t.

“Are you serious?” Hanamaki all but screeched, Matsukawa managing to get out of Hanamaki’s grip.

“Dead,” Matsukawa chided, pulling on his boxers and heading to the door way to pick up his pants. 

“They don’t have burgers in Indonesia either?”

“Not the kind they have here!” Matsukawa was now in the living room, probably looking for his shirt.  Hanamaki rolled his eyes, rolling out of bed to follow his dipshit boyfriend and defend what was left of the relationship. 

He scoffed at the idea of losing to a burger.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next nineteen hours felt like a blink, and soon Hanamaki was attached to Matsukawa’s face at the airport, probably creeping out anyone who took notice of them, but could hardly care less when he had another three months of _none of this_ to look forward to.  Matsukawa wasn’t exactly arguing either, his arms tight around Hanamaki’s waist, squeezing him tight, as much desperation in his hold as Hanamaki had in his movements.

Hanamaki had one hand on the back of Matsukawa’s neck, keeping their lips anchored, the newly shaved hair harder to grip but just as pleasing to his fingers.  His other hand was firmly on Matsukawa’s ass, gripping as hard as he could in an attempt to memorise the shape.

“Do you think if we start going at it right here you’ll be arrested long enough to miss your flight and have to stay another night?” Hanamaki asked, out of breath, speaking against Matsukawa’s smooth jaw.  He was already mourning the mattered look Matsukawa had greeted him with, but agreed it was probably a good idea he got cleaned up while he had the chance before he returned looking like Hagrid.  Hanamaki found facial hair attractive but that was on a whole other level.

“I think I wouldn’t be allowed back into the airport at all,” Matsukawa replied, tilting his head to kiss Hanamaki’s cheek, his ear, his neck.

“Oh yes.  That would suck.  A fucking catastrophe if ever I heard one.” 

Matsukawa pulled away, giving himself enough space to be able to look Hanamaki in the eye.

“Do you really miss me that much?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?”

“Just answer it.”

Hanamki could tell Matsukawa wanted the truth; not some half-assed snarky comment that was so obviously a lie.

“Every day I think it’ll only get easier; but it just gets harder, and just when I think I’ll break, I realise my breaking point is still so far away.  But that just means it’ll only get even harder.”  The first tears started to fall.  Hanamaki bit his lip, reaching up to brush it off Matsukawa’s cheek.  “Don’t start.  ‘Cause if you start, I’ll start, and then I’ll look like an idiot when you leave and I’m just left here crying by myself.”

Hanamaki started crying anyway.

“I can stay,” Matsukawa was saying into Hanamaki’s hair, breathing in the strawberry scent from the strawberry curls.  Hanamaki didn’t even eat strawberries.

Hanamaki gripped Matsukawa’s arms, clinging to him for dear life.  His flight number was called for boarding over the intercom.

“Don’t tempt me,” Hanamaki laughed.  Both of their voices were thick with tears now.  “I know you want to go.  I’m not going to be a selfish asshole and beg for you to stay, all just because I can’t live without my boyfriend for a few months.”

As various passengers began lining up in front of the gate and the stewardesses started scanning tickets, Hanamaki and Matsukawa shared one last kiss, keeping each other grounded for that last moment.

Hanamaki didn’t want to say good bye; so he didn’t.  He only muttered a regretful ‘go’, before forcing himself to unwind his arms from around Matsukawa’s frame, letting him pick up his carry on and walk through the gates. 

Hanamaki moved to the waiting chairs, his legs felt heavy and his head hurt, his eyes were burning from trying not to cry, and his hands were clenched so tight he was sure he’d be drawing blood soon.  He didn’t move until Matsukawa’s plane had taken off and was out of sight, so Hanamaki would know for sure Matsukawa was gone for now.

“It’s just three months,” Hanamaki reminded himself, letting his tears fall faster. 

But just like he expected, his breathing was suddenly difficult, his thoughts were non-existent, and Hanamaki was hit with the reminder of who he was missing every time he looked to his side, only to find his matching piece not there with him. 


End file.
